


The Curious Case of Merlin and The Dress

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small story about Arthur and Merlin's thoughts from episode 2x9: The Lady of the Lake, upon which both Gwen and Arthur stumble across Merlin stealing a dress from Lady Morgana.</p>
<p>Pure fluff. Well, mostly purr fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curious Case of Merlin and The Dress

Were one to ask Arthur what the strangest occurrence of his day was to be, he would have promptly answered with something mundane and easy. Like the fact that he would probably have to do something to wake Merlin up, like a jug of water in the face. Or that he would have to once again argue with the waif over the sudden disappearance of items from his meal, or, dare he say, Merlin's argument that he is getting FAT. How -dare- the clodpole call him FAT?!? As if! (And lets totally ignore the fact that Arthur has just used one of Merlin's imaginary words!)

Even as he stalks the halls of Camelot, he glances down at the way his tunic shirt falls against his stomach. His perfectly sculpted, -FLAT- stomach that most DEFINITELY is not FAT. His fingers twist against the hem of it, worrying the fabric for a moment. He cannot be getting fat. Surely, someone would've told him by now if he had begun to put on a few pounds?! Wouldn't Gwen have said something? Or maybe Morgana, in that snarking way of her's, that almost affectionate mockery!? His stomach roils and rumbles for a moment, lodging a dastardly complaint against the lack of food he has faced the past few days.

The truth is, though, he could overlook the disappearing food and the comments of his supposed weight gain, but the thing he cannot forgive, is the fact that Merlin has been disappearing at the strangest times. That in itself is not an unusual occurrence, but the fact that he suddenly cares, is! Ok, well, that is not unusual, either. He always cares when Merlin disappears, because his clothes do not get cleaned, his meals do not show, and his room becomes a large mess in no time flat when Merlin disappears. But this ... this is different. 

Because he finds himself genuinely curious, and worried, over where Merlin might actually be spending his time! What reason could the little prat have to be shirking the company of THE Prince of Camelot!? More importantly .. WHO would he do such a thing for!? This question gnaws at his guts more deeply and fully than the bit of hunger pangs he is experiencing. So much so, he considers a hardy slap to the offending area!

How befuddled his mind is, that he is considering a course of action that would afford himself discomfort and possible pain, because of his serving boy! He grits his teeth, feeling them grind and grate, his hands tightening into fists at his sides as he continues to stalk. Not walk, roam, stroll, or even swagger, but STALK. He is reduced to hounding the halls of his own home because he is so upset.

He turns a corner and draws up short, eyes wide as he sees Merlin coming right at him. Oh, so many delicious torments pass through his mind. He will make him attend target practice, throw boots and goblets at his big fat, stupid ... dollophead! All of these thoughts pass in the blink of an eye as the two near each other. Until he takes in the fact that Merlin is staring downward at something clutched in his hand. A bolt of fabric, perhaps? Why in the hell would Merlin be running about with fabric at this time of night!? 

He draws up short again, glancing down at the material as Merlin stops as well. Their eyes meet across the bundle the younger man is clutching, and when Arthur finally comes to understand what the guy is practically CLINGING to, he isn't sure what to say. So, he draws back, recoils, so that they are no longer standing nearly nose to nose with one another. But so that his head is cast back a bit, letting him look through the tawny webbing of his lashes at the manservant that has continued to perplex him every step of the way through their strange .... association. Yes, that would be the appropriate term for it, no? Association. Clean cut. Simple. A well defined parameter that he would be foolish to try and step beyond.

When Merlin finally looks up, and realizes that his Crown Prince is standing there, no words are forthcoming. Instead, he glances back down at the burden of fabric bundled in his hands, trying so very hard not to look at Arthur again. And the moment that Arthur realizes that Merlin won't look at him, he realizes that the appropriate thing to do, would be to turn and walk away. Just this singular time, allow Merlin something private and all his own that doesn't involve Arthur in any way. 

So, that's what he does. He turns, so as not to collide with Merlin's shoulder, with how close they are standing, and begins to walk away. And he's doing really well. Tells himself several times that it doesn't matter in the least, that Merlin is obviously involved in something that has absolutely ZERO to do with him. Yup. Perfectly fine with it. And then Merlin starts to walk away. 

That. Will. NOT. DO!!! Merlin was not supposed to be walking away. He was supposed to be spluttering excuses or explanations! He was SUPPOSED to be making a big deal out of the fact that Arthur, his Crown Prince and liege Lord, could be thinking something horrible and unjust about him. Damn it, Arthur's opinion is -SUPPOSED- to matter to the little fool!! 

"What -are- you doing!?" Arthur finally gives voice to the thought tearing through him as he pivots about to face Merlin. Who whirls around in a flutter of material, still clinging to the damn dress. Holding the blasted thing so tightly to himself that Arthur wonders absently if it's going to split apart or something!

Merlin glances down at the bundle of fabric in his arms, and then back up at Arthur, his brain feeling almost as if it is going to combust inside his skull as he flounders for an excuse. And in -true- Merlin fashion, he blurts out the first thing that occurs to him.

"Uh, running an errand for Gaius." he spits the words out in stilted tones, lifting the dress pathetically. As if, somehow, the wad of fabric will make sense now. Did he honestly think that ridiculous excuse would hold water!?

"For. Gaius." Arthur repeats pointedly, almost as if the sheer stupidity of it simply cannot be comprehended. Poor Arthur actually thinks that his brain is going to fizzle out and stall as he tries to wrap his head around this. Why does Merlin have a dress!?! And who the hell is he WEARING THAT DRESS FOR!? Arthur's brow shoots upward in an 'I clearly do not believe a word you have said, so try again' way that could almost give Gauis a run for his money! Merlin has taken to calling it the 'Evil Arthur brow quirk.' 

"Yes!" That single word is a half squeak from Merlin, his head bobbing as if the word and motion somehow erase every single doubt and make the worst excuse -ever- plausible. God, sometimes Arthur wishes he could borrow a bit of the naive innocence the younger man possesses. To remember what it was to be that blissfully unawares and trusting. 

"Strange ..." The Prince stretches the word out slightly, his head bobbing slowly. As if in complete contradiction to that word, that suggests he doesn't believe him, while the bob suggests he does. Of course, it's pretty obvious which is the truth. Merlin had come up with better excuses to UTHER, and those repeatedly landed him in the stocks! So, what should Arthur do to his friend for this whopper? (And no, no he did NOT just think of him as friend, thank you very much. Stop thinking that!)

Merlin's gaze drops back toward the dress clutched in his hands and he lifts a little. Trying to get a better look at it, perhaps? Or, maybe, hoping that if he looks at it a little closer, it might materialize some words he can actually use to get him out of whatever the hell is happening here!

"Oh!" The warlock begins to laugh awkwardly, his face scrunching up in that adorable way that does not, in any way, make Arthur's stomach flutter, damn it! "I don't think it's for -him-." He points out, lamely, his voice breaking ever so slightly as he fights against rising panic. God, what must Arthur think of him!? He feels fear and terror spiraling through him, and he is afraid that if he has to say anything else, he will -really- muck this up! Not that he's not already doing that, of course.

"As long as you do a decent day's work, Merlin, that's all I care about." Arthur manages to deliver those words with the utmost seriousness, despite the little smirk playing across his full lips. He spins on his heel and begins to walk away, though he's not entirely sure. Hoping Merlin will follow, maybe? Or perhaps, for once, he's just trying to give Merlin an out. Yeah, right. It's the following, because when does Arthur -not- want Merlin following him!? 

With his back turned, the Prince does not get to see the adorkable look of awkward panic on Merlin's face as he takes a few stumbled steps forward. Nearly tripping over his own feet as a sense of urgent desperation fills him. Surely Arthur doesn't actually -believe- that this thing is his, yes!? And why does the thought distress him so much!?

"No no! It's not for me!" His voice breaks and quivers in his need to get those words out so that Arthur will -understand-! This is NOT for him. No, it's for a friend, someone he cares about, NOT for him! He stumbles to a stop, the dress clutched tightly in his hands. Pressed against his chest, and maybe that sends the wrong signal? As if it is somehow precious and important to him. No. It isn't. The one it's intended for is important, not the article itself. Arthur turns to watch him for a moment. His features are brimming with obvious amusement at Merlin's discomfort, but his insides are a tumultuous mess. Why does Merlin have a dress? Who is he giving it to? Who possibly gave it to -him-!? These questions burrow into his mind, leaving him dizzy with confusion and a chilling need to KNOW. So then, why doesn't he just ask the other man? Because .. that would be too easy. And besides, Merlin had already tried to make lame excuses, so he wasn't likely to get a straight answer.

Arthur turns, feeling smallest sliver of pity for his friend, though it is immediately drowned out by the annoyance that is well up inside him. Because why ... why does Merlin have a dress? WHY is he lying about it!? Arthur's hands lift in a placating gesture, that bit of sympathy and pity winning out for a moment. Or maybe he's just egging him on further! Even the Prince isn't sure at this point!

"What a man does in his spare time is completely up to him!" He claps his hands together, somehow cementing the words that are such a damn lie! He doesn't care what Merlin does in his spare time for the most part, but a dress?? He wants to draw the line there! If Merlin is putting on a dress for someone, he wants to know. Wants to make it stop. (So that no one finds out. That's all it is. Has absolutely NOTHING to do with wondering what Merlin would look like in one. Wondering who he wears it for, and what that bastard or bitch does, while he's in it! He bites at the inside of his cheek, turning quickly. If he does't walk away, he knows that he's going to say something stupid and irrevocable.

"N-no, you've got this wrong!" Merlin yelps the words, jabbing a finger in Arthur's direction. Almost as if he were trying to perform a spell to make his Prince turn back around and believe him! Or maybe, hoping sheer will alone will make that happen. He tries to fight feelings of anger and despair pouring through him. Does Arthur truly think so little of him!? He takes a few steps closer, but Arthur is already to the corner. 

"Color suits you, Merlin!" Arthur calls out a second before he's around the corner. He takes three more steps then turns, shoving his back against the wall in a desperate need to hold himself upright as the feelings continue to eat at him. He has to find out what's going on here!

Merlin can feel heat trying to tear up his cheeks, trying to pool there and leave him winded with embarrassment and confusion. After a moment, he pushes all thoughts of Arthur from his mind and takes off, back to Freya.


End file.
